Oh, Peacemaker! Oh, dear Lamb of God,
don’t thin away into crumbling sod.
Don’t let this get you; the sickness will pass
and I pray these moments aren’t your last.
Skin can’t compress all the grief that I bear
wringing and burning—when words can’t compare
to that first sight of your body grown frail,
when the lesions were red, and you, pale.

And I’ll miss you when you’re gone.
And I’ll miss you when you’re gone, when the flesh breaks open,
blinks with swollen eyes; the AIDS that I despise.
Another dreamer dies in my eyes; (and my heart breaks open).

Hours, they slip like the falling of leaves,
curling and cracking, while nobody breathes.
Head in his hands, Terry waits by your bed
holding on while your spirit is lead.

Fifteen years, and our hearts are still pretending;
When all your friends said, Jack, be careful, Jack.
Hold on again, with your courage never bending.
Now I beg you, friend, just don’t look back.

Now, do we mourn or do we celebrate
a fate worse than death, or a death worse than fate,
when understanding does not dull the pain,
and these raw little questions remain.